29/05/2025
As the 2027 general elections begin to take shape, Kenya’s political landscape is stirring with early signs of alignment, discontent, and ambition. President William Samoei Ruto , barely halfway through his first term, appears poised for a second run—unchallenged in his dominance, unless internal fractures weaken the strong foundation he has built. The names whispered as future contenders—Rigathi Gachagua, Fred Matiangi and Kalonzo Musyoka —offer a peek into what could be a highly unpredictable election. Yet among them, one name is quickly turning from potential to liability: Rigathi Gachagua.
There was once hope. H.E. Rigathi Gachagua, EGH , the former Deputy President, had the opportunity to rise as a statesman—one who could unify, inspire, and carry the legacy of leadership forward. But as months pass, his public statements have created more divisions than unity, more discomfort than confidence.
It would be unfair to place all blame on the man himself. Leadership is shaped by the quality of advice one receives, and in Gachagua's case, his circle of advisors appears either overwhelmed or dangerously misguided. Each public appearance, each press conference, seems to chip away at his political capital. The more he speaks, the more ground he loses—not just politically, but morally and nationally.
Kenya has worked hard to mend the wounds of its past. The 2007 post-election violence, a painful chapter in our national history, was not only tragic but a lesson in how deep ethnic divisions can scar generations. When Uhuru Kenyatta and William Ruto stood side by side in 2013, it was more than a political alliance—it was a powerful symbol of reconciliation and healing.
Unfortunately, Gachagua's tendency to evoke memories of 2007, whether intentional or careless, reopens wounds we’ve fought so hard to close. His speeches often drip with tribal undertones, pushing a divisive narrative in a time when the country hungers for unity. And Kikuyu leaders—aware of the changing tides and the cost of association—are quietly distancing themselves.
It’s often said that a wise leader knows when to speak and when to stay silent. In Gachagua’s case, silence could be his saving grace. Instead of offering a vision of unity, he seems trapped in regional politics and historic grudges. In today's Kenya, that brand of politics is rapidly becoming obsolete.
Ironically, Gachagua’s missteps only strengthen President Ruto’s hand. Ruto has positioned himself as a pan-Kenyan leader—strategic, measured, and increasingly pragmatic. If Ruto runs for a second term, and if his deputy remains unchanged, he may still clinch victory—not because of Gachagua, but in spite of him.
Kenya is entering a new political season. The youth are watching, the elders are remembering, and the nation is listening. We no longer want leaders who remind us of our darkest days. We want leaders who shine light on the path ahead.
If Rigathi Gachagua is to have any political future beyond 2027, he must shed the tribal lens, mute the rhetoric, and listen more than he speaks. Because right now, every word he utters seems to echo not power—but political erosion.
